


Just another day with Clay.

by SheyRicci



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: Clay thinks he has a bruise.





	Just another day with Clay.

**Author's Note:**

> When you're home on a beautiful Fall day...

"Hey, uh, Trent, got a minute?" Clay stood to the side of Trent's bunk, just out of striking distance, shifted his weight awkwardly.

"Sure kid, what's up?" He rested his open book on his chest, tilted his head up and back and around to see Clay, wondered why the kid sounded and acted nervous.

"You got a hand mirror?"

"A what?" He sat up, swung one leg to the floor, the book in his lap. Now, that was an odd request.

Clay stomped a bit impatiently, made the shape of a hand mirror with a handle with his hands. "A mirror. You see yourself in it."

"I have a mouth mirror," Trent began but Clay shook his head. "No?"

"No. Something bigger." Clay looked at the ceiling, the wall, the floor, noticed Trent was reading a medical book, winced, knew most likely the medic was reading it because of him.

"Got a woman's compact….no? Still too small?" Clay nodded. Trent sighed, pushed at his hair. "Okay, I'm gonna ask, I'm gonna regret it, but I'm gonna ask anyway, why do you need a big mirror?"

It was Clay's turn to sigh. He threw his hands up, 'forget about it' on the tip of his tongue, but no. Jason ever found out he'd ignored 'this' without having it looked at, he'd pay for it with blistered feet from running.

"Remember, when I went over the hill after the dog?"

Trent nodded. Of course he remembered, he'd lost a fucking year off his life watching Clay jump without hesitation, without thought. One second he was there, the next he couldn't even be seen no matter how far over the side of the cliff Bravo had hung.

"Think I got a bruise from a rock or something, just, can't see it."

Trent swung his second foot to the floor, set the book aside. "Your back?" He'd checked Clay over once Brock and Sonny had tossed him a rope and pulled both him and the dog up to firm ground. Nothing had been broken or sprained, he hadn't complained of any soreness or pain.

"No."

"Shoulder?"

"No."

Trent hid a grin. "Might as well just drop 'em, lemme see."

"I just need a mirror." He'd turned and twisted and contorted until he was out of breath in the men's room but the mirror was mounted too high on the wall and despite standing on the urinal, he still hadn't been able to see.

And of course, he hadn't been able to find a hand mirror anywhere.

"I've seen it all before." Trent laughed. "Since when are you shy?"

Clay sighed. He wasn't shy. But hell, everyone deserved privacy.

"Didn't think you hurt anything, jumping off a cliff." His tone was mildly reproving. "You said you didn't."

"Cause I didn't think I had. Nothing hurt then."

"Lemme see Clay. I'm better than any mirror."

Defeated, Clay huffed. He'd expected as much when he'd sought Trent out, but thought maybe he'd just assume Clay was going to shave or something. He'd thought about just going to the infirmary on base, but Bravo's doc wasn't with them and Jason tended to frown upon his men seeing just any doctor, so he'd made the decision to see the bruise for himself then decide whether or not to bother Trent.

But, of course, it hadn't worked out that way, and here he was.

"Can you sit okay? Back hurt? Anything tingle? Any numbness in your…" Trent went silent as Clay unbuckled his belt, pulled the buttons on his fly loose, pushed his pants down his left hip, hooked a thumb under the waistband of his boxer briefs, showed skin. "You think that's a bruise?" Trent slapped Clay's hand away, exposed more skin. "Jesus Christ, what the hell'm I gonna do with you."

"Yeah. You see it?" Clay really didn't feel comfortable standing naked - even though he was doing no such thing - in front of Trent, no matter how close there were or what Trent had seen or done for him in the past. "Yeah, right there. It bad, you thin…..OW!" His hand flew to his head which stung and smarted after a sharp slap from Trent. "THE FUCK!?" He rubbed the sore spot. "OW!"

"You didn't come back, shower and change like you were supposed to, did you?" Trent smacked him again, Clay hopped forward with a howl. "Did you?!"

"CUT IT OUT!" Clay yelled. "Do that again and I'm hitting back!"

Trent snorted, slapped him a third time, easily ducked Clay's half-hearted punch. "You know the rules Clay. You shower when you get back."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Clay demanded. "Knock it off!"

"Not a bruise Spense." Trent said, calmly reaching down to pick up the book and close it. He tossed it into a trashcan with a sigh. "Worthless."

Confused, Clay tried to turn around to face Trent, but his arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back. Next thing he knew, his feet were kicked out from under him and he was taken down with a move he didn't know Trent was capable of. He was on his belly, face-first into the pillow and Trent was tugging his pants off both hips, Clay doing his best to keep them at his waist.

"Hey! Uh….hey!"

The door opened as Clay fought his way up onto his elbows, squirming to get his knees under him so he could get up and fight off Trent.

"Heard yelling." Ray entered the room, stopped, hand still on the door knob. "Something I should know?"

"I have a bruise," began Clay, cursing when Trent slapped his ass hard to stop him from squirming. "OW! I swear to God Trent, you hit me one more time, you're gonna find out just how fast I can run."

"It's not a bruise." Trent responded with a roll of his eyes in Ray's direction.

Ray, unbothered by the display on the bed in front of him, strode over to the trash can, removed the book, read the title.

"Not informative?" He commented casually, setting the book on Trent's bunk.

"Useless." Trent muttered.

"Explain." Ray crossed his arms.

"Kid gets a paper cut, bleeds for an hour, a band-aid just won't do." Trent snarked with heavy sarcasm, waved at the book whose title was 'how to control bleeding' or something close to that. "Gets shot in the ass, doesn't bleed."

"What?" cried Clay. "Who's bleeding? Me? I'm not bleeding." He struggled to turn over, reached a hand backwards to feel the bruise. "Shot? I wasn't shot, you asshole. I fell down a hill, it's a fucking bruise."

"Wait, what?" cried Ray. He stepped forward. "Where?" He crowded in beside Trent who pushed Clay's hand away. "Don't touch."

"OW!" Clay yelped when Ray boxed his left ear. "HEY!"

"How many times have you been told to shower when you get back from the field!?" Ray scolded. "It's a team rule Spenser."

Never had been before the kid had joined the team, but yeah, it was now.

Clay held his abused ear, pouted with a scowl. "I wanted to, but got pulled in by Mandy to translate for her."

Trent paused, glared at Ray who nodded. Yeah, Bravo two understood that look. No one on Bravo liked Mandy just assuming she could have Clay whenever she wanted him. Time to tell Jason to put a stop to it.

"So, sitting on a wood chair's when you began to feel it?" Trent asked, crouched down, poked and prodded, pinched and puckered with his fingers and thumbs. "Stay still."

"Uh, yeah." Clay swallowed, feeling serious discomfort from Trent's none-too-gentle poking. "Felt numb, then tingled, just grew worse. Went to the bathroom, tried to see…." He lowered his head, rubbed his all-of-a-sudden sweaty forehead against the blanket. "Couldn't...I wasn't shot Trent."

"Didn't feel the hole in your pants?" Trent asked caustically. "I know a gun shot, a bullet hole, when I see one dumbass."

"No," Clay laid his cheek on the pillow. "Didn't look for one."

"Serious?" Ray asked Trent quietly.

"Small caliber, didn't hit muscle or bone, flesh is all." Trent got up to retrieve a bottle from a bag. "Not very deep."

"When were you shot at?" Ray pulled his phone from his back pocket. "He's not gonna feel too good, next couple days though, right?"

Trent nodded. "Gonna be uncomfortable, yeah."

"I….I dunno." Clay mumbled. He'd felt just fine until he'd been told he'd been shot in the ass. "You tell me, I was with you guys." But now he felt like shit; hot, shaky, sweaty, queasy.

Ray had to agree, nodded, thumbed send.

"Better be good Ray." Jason answered on the fourth ring. Ray guessed he'd been debating whether or not to answer because their boss had told them he was taking some 'me time' and not to bother him.

"Clay was shot in the ass."

Silence.

"I dunno where." Clay added mournfully. "Can't see it. Doesn't feel like my ass." He licked his lip, rubbed his eyes. "You sure I was shot?"

"Just above the left buttock." Trent correctly mildly. "Towards his hip." He gave the back of Clay's thigh a pat. "I'm sure you were shot."

"Huh," and he laid his head down.

Jason finally spoke. "You know this how?"

"He went to Trent."

"When?"

"Dunno Jay, kid was with us all morning. We got back, Mandy pulled him in."

Jason held in his curse. That had been several hours ago. If Clay had followed the team rule and bothered to shower, he would have discovered the injury then. Could only blame so much on Mandy. Clay had a mouth and he ran it twenty-four seven all other times. He very easily could have told their CIA liaison he'd return to help her after he followed team rules, showered and changed, but nope, the kid clammed up as soon as he was around Mandy.

"I'll talk to Mandy." Jason sighed and ordered, "You set him straight on what is and isn't acceptable when it comes to taking care of himself before doing anything for anyone else."

"Roger that." Ray disconnected, returned the phone to his pocket. "So Spenser, next time, how about you tell Mandy you will assist her AFTER you shower, clean-up and see to any injuries you _think_ you might have."

"But she said…" he grunted when something cold dabbed his skin. "She wanted to….YOW!" He yelped, jerking away as he came up on his elbows again when the cold was replaced with something that stung like a mother-fucker. "SHIT Trent, the hell?"

"It wasn't a suggestion Spenser." Ray spoke sharply.

Clay stuck his tongue out at him, buried his face in the pillow.

"What do you think Ray?" Trent stood up, tossed the square piece of white linen he'd used to dab a cleansing solution on and around the bullet hole. "You wanna hold him down while I go digging with tweezers and forceps?"

"Bullet still in there?"

"Yup."

Clay shuddered, went flat on his chest. "If you hafta."

Trent had been teasing but even so, Clay's easy capitulation and ready acceptance to let him do whatever he wanted, still felt like a punch in the gut.

"Just teasing Clay." Ray gave his shoulder a pat. "We're not out in the field, no hack and patch surgery required. Let's get you over to the infirmary, let them at you."

Clay rolled off the bed, gained his feet. "Not too bad, is it?" He pulled his pants up, buttoned the fly, left the belt loose.

"No." Trent slapped him on his back. "Inflamed, you know, dirt'n all. They'll dig it out, clean it up, staple or two, give you an antibiotic."

"Come on." Ray, phone once again in his hand, opened the door. "Jay said you're confined to bed until Trent's sure you aren't running a fever or suffering from an infection."

Clay didn't argue, followed Ray out of the room. He was more than willing to loll about in bed with headphones or just sleep.

Trent sighed, right, when he said Clay was fit as a fiddle and not some doctor Jason didn't know who was perfectly capable of treating any injury someone on Bravo suffered. He reached for his phone, sent Doc a text. He picked up the book, thumbed through it, tossed it aside. He'd finish reading it later, some other time.

Now, he needed a book on why not all gunshots bled.

***000***

Jason, finally freed from an unwanted but requested counselling session, relaxed under the experienced hands of the masseuse rubbing and massaging oils and lotions into tense muscles and aching joints. Oh yeah, he could get used to this.

His phone rang with the Spinners tune that identified the caller as Ray. He ignored it at first but finally went up on an elbow to answer it. Ray had taken Clay to the infirmary to have a .22 slug removed from his ass. Trent had said, via Ray, that it wasn't serious, kid would be fine, no need to worry. Jason had ordered Ray to put Clay to bed and keep an eye on him.

Why then, was Ray calling again? The kid should be back in quarters, shot up with a mild pain med, sedative and antibiotic, all of which together, would render the motor-mouth energized bunny asleep for a guaranteed 8 hours.

"Now what?" He snapped.

"Sorry boss, Clay was summoned to command."

Jason cussed, hand tightening on the phone so he didn't throw it. "You told him no, right?" He waited. "Right Ray? Didn't you?"

"I left him in the infirmary Jay." Ray huffed. "Kid deserved a bit of privacy, you know?"

"Go get him."

"Yeah, I tried. I've been barred from the meeting."

"Sonofabitch." Jason sat up, pulling the sheet over his lap as he swung his legs off the table. "By who? This doesn't sound like Mandy Ray."

"I dunno."

"Where's Blackburn?"

"I called him. He's on his way. He was touring the village with some congress person or another."

"The same village we were at earlier? So, someone wanted him off base." Jason slid to the floor, hiked the sheet to his hip with one hand, padded barefoot to the dressing room. "Be there in 15."

"You want I break down the door?"

"No." But Jason very much wanted that very thing. "He's in no danger. Stay right there though. You hear anything, feel something's off, get in there."

"Will do."

Jason called Blackburn as he got dressed. Eric was on his way back as well. They'd likely arrive at the same time, made plans to enter the room, take their kid back, together.

***000***

"One more time, who the hell are you again?" Eric demanded. He'd stormed the room with Jason, Ray and Sonny who was waiting with Ray when he and Jason had arrived. "And what the hell do you want?"

"I am Captain Vaughn." He handed Eric a letter who took it, skimmed over it, let the piece of paper fall to a table. "I am here..."

"Unofficially." Eric cut in. "You can request our assistance, you can't demand it."

Clay was quiet, hands folded, elbows on his knees. He glanced up through his bangs to make eye contact with Mandy who looked away. He was light-headed, the combination of medication made him woozy.

"We are simply asking for..." Vaughn began.

"I don't want to." Clay said firmly, staring at the floor. "No."

Startled by the refusal, the various people in the room went silent, blinked at one another. Sonny coughed into his elbow. Finally, the kid was saying no. Just, what a time to say it.

"You," Vaughn, leading the meeting paused, looked at Mandy who stared back at him with wide eyes. "You don't want to?" Baffled, he waited. He hadn't expected Blackburn to appear in the meeting. He'd been confident he'd had Bravo's Lt. Commander otherwise occupied. And he still didn't know how the hell most of Bravo had appeared. "No? That's it. You say no, you don't want to and that's it?"

"Do I have to?" Clay countered, head coming up, blue eyes harsh. He stared at Vaughn defiantly before turning his now questioning gaze to Eric.

"No." Eric said firmly. "You don't."

Mandy shook her head. "We're only asking Clay, not ordering."

Clay pushed to his feet, the wheeled chair skittering backwards from the force until it hit the wall. "I'm done here then?" His entire demeanor was defiance.

Eric nodded. Clay crossed the room, yanked the door open, slammed it behind him.

"You're letting him go?" Vaughn turned on Mandy. "You said you'd be able to gain his cooperation."

"I can't make him do something for you that isn't a sanctioned mission." Mandy chewed her lip. "He's been reluctant before, but he's never refused."

"But he can." Vaughn pointed at Eric. "Make him."

But Eric was shaking his head. "Not gonna happen." He stated unequivocally.

"You'll have to go through all of us." Ray spoke up.

"Jason, let me read you in," Mandy began. "Eric, Vaughn and his staff have a good..."

"I think maybe, Miz Ellis," Sonny drawled, chewed on a toothpick. "The kids had enough of you putting him in harms way."

"Fighting his battles for him now, are you Sonny?" She snapped, then her eyes widened. "I do no such thing."

"Seems someone should be on his side."

"Really Sonny?" Ray shook his head. "Not helping."

"Just saying," Sonny glared. "That she just had him retrieved from the infirmary where they dug a bullet outta his ass."

"Son..." Ray tried again.

"How'd that happen again? Oh right, escorting her through a market in the village earlier today so he could eavesdrop for her."

"The doctors have reported that he's fine, no damage, fit to return to service." Vaughn argued.

"Yeah, I think he's done enough for her." Sonny finished.

"Jason?" Mandy turned to her one ally who never told her no.

Jason though, wasn't paying attention, lost in a headache that just wouldn't go away. He'd tried aspirin, ibuprofen, cold cloth, ice pack, dark room, counselling session, massage. Nothing had made a dent.

"Jason." She said again, this time sharply.

"What?" His eyes were red, their rims dry. Man, he wanted to go lie down. "We done?"

"You okay?" Ray asked, eyebrows high. It wasn't like Jason not to pay attention.

"Just a headache, gonna go lie down."

"Just as soon as you tell Spenser he has to..." Vaughn was saying, putting paper in a file, shutting down a tablet.

"I'm not going to make him do anything. Just leave the kid alone, he's having hard week." Jason stood up. "Is this a green-lit op? Mission? Job?"

Mandy scowled, lips turning up like she'd sucked on something sour. "No."

"Then make it so or get yourself an interpreter and go do whatever it is you're not gonna get him for."

Sonny smirked, rose to his feet, ready to exit the room on his boss's heels.

"Jason, I'm asking you to hear me out." Mandy said, halting his departure from the room.

"Go," Eric said, waving at the door. "I'll get read in."

"What are you going to do?" Mandy asked Jason. "Go back to your quarters, tuck him in with a blanket, sit around his bed all night?" She mocked sarcastically.

"And watch him sleep." Sonny finished. "Sounds like a mighty fine plan to me." He followed Jason from the room, leaving Ray with Eric to face Mandy and Vaughn.

"You know Mandy, having a bullet taken outta your skin isn't fun. He's sore, he's in some pain, he's been given medication. Yeah, we're gonna stay in tonight, keep an eye on him. Not fair to lay it all on Trent."

"When I get this op green-lit, I expect to get him." Vaughn said angrily.

"You'll get Bravo, not just part of them." Eric countered. "Shall we begin?"

()()()

Clay hit the showers before returning to his quarters and seeking his bed. Brock was with Trent when he entered, looked up with a shit-eating grin that faded when he saw Clay's face.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, getting up and going over to the mini-fridge and removing a bottle of Gatorade.

"Nothing." Clay took the bottle, sat down on his bunk. "Thanks."

"Lie down, lemme see." Trent said from across the room. "Doc got the transcript, says you're good."

"Can I finish drinking?" Clay snapped, pulled the tab up with his teeth. "Christ, just once, can I be left alone?"

"Sure." Trent said easily, ignored him. "You know you're staying in tonight, right?"

"Being on meds and all." Brock added. "Keep an eye on you."

"Tired anyway." Clay admitted.

"You showered." Trent dug through a duffel bag on a dresser, withdrew a tube of ointment, square gauze pads, white tape. "You need me to do this? Or did you?"

"I didn't and I don't but you will anyway."

Trent grinned. "Yeah, I will."

Clay sighed, stood up, stepped out of his sweatpants, crawled into bed wearing a long-sleeved Henley and boxer briefs, laid down on his stomach.

"You know," he commented, squeezing the bottle to squire Gatorade into his mouth. "You're entirely too comfortable with, uh, this." He waved a limp wrist. "Doing this."

"You know," Trent countered back, tugged the kid's ear affectionately. "You've given me way too much practice."

Clay finished the last of the Gatorade, let the bottle fall onto the floor, laid his head down as Trent snapped on a glove.

"Hate that sound." Clay murmured sleepily, shifted uneasily, muscles bunching when Trent tapped the stitches, rolled and kneaded his skin. "Ow, must you?"

"Looks good." Trent announced. "Little swelling, no redness, stitches are set tight, you're fine."

"I know."

"Trent?" Jason stood in the doorway to the room he shared with Ray.

"He's good boss. Doctor did a good job."

Jason didn't doubt it, knew Doc back in Virginia had the report and was satisfied. He wanted relief for his headache so he could tackle this Vaughn asshole with a clear head come morning.

"Just tell me when _you_ feel he's good to go." Jason said pointedly. "What you got for a headache?"

Clay nuzzled against the pillow, relaxed as his mind fuzzily let go and allowed him to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge his team wouldn't let him go out on a job without them and until Trent deemed him ready.


End file.
